A Late Time of Night
by sbyamibakura
Summary: Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, post-Money in the Bank 2015 and the Raw after. It was his own fault that he was up at four am, unable to get the events of recently out of his system (and it wasn't because of Brock Lesnar, thank you very much, despite what some people might think.)


A Late Time of Night

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: WWE is owned by itself, the characters are also owned by WWE and the people portraying them own themselves. I only own this story and make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated M for some sexual content, language, slash, etc.

Pairing: Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins.

Setting: Post-Money in the Bank 2015 and the Raw after.

Summary: It was his own fault that he was up at four am, unable to get the events of recently out of his system (and it wasn't because of Brock Lesnar, thank you very much, despite what some people might think.)

A/N: Recently did this on the wrestling kink meme on dreamwidth (guess I just outed myself lol.) Figured I'd put it up and see what people think.

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What the fuck was he doing here? He was a fucking _idiot_. It was his own fault that he was up at four am, unable to get the events of recently out of his system (and it wasn't because of Brock Lesnar, thank you very much, despite what some people might think.)

It had been over a year now since a chair shot decided the fate of all three of them, him, Dean, and Roman, for them, had put them all on a path that they definitely wouldn't have gone on otherwise. He knew that. It's why it had to be him. He _had_ to. Despite torn on feelings, or thoughts...it had to be done.

It couldn't be undone.

Regardless of all that, he was now standing in front of Ambrose's hotel room like a fucking idiot, biting on his lip with indecision. There were many things in his life he had wanted. And every time he had wanted something, he worked to get it, did whatever it took. It's what led him to be ROH champion at a young age, to get to WWE at a young age, to be apart of the biggest group in the past ten years ( _easily_ ), and to become WWE World Heavyweight Champion.

This was a whole different animal.

No, really, why the hell was he here? Because of Ambrose? The fact that he still had these lingering feelings, even after all this time, only served to piss him off more than anything. He didn't _want_ to feel this way; it made things oh so much harder (no pun intended), and he didn't like it. He didn't want it. He didn't want to want Dean Ambrose. ...But he did. It had been so long, this feeling, apart of him that he couldn't even remember now when he started to feel something _more_ for him.

"What the fuck am I doing?" he mutters to himself, staring at Ambrose's door as if it held the secrets of life. "It's not like he'd want to see me anyway. And I don't want to-and it's not like his room is-" He had started to push at Ambrose's door with a hand, thinking briefly he'd knock on it (what a crazy thought _that_ was) and it opens. He stares for a moment. He must have forgotten to close it all the way. Or he had left it open in case Roman wanted to get into the room and couldn't otherwise.

That thought leaves a bitter feeling in his mouth. Reminders of the past.

He stares for a moment longer, before shaking his head and entering inside, closing it softly behind him. The room was pretty dark, and he could barely make out some kind of noise in the distance. As he walks in, he sees that the television is still on-at this time of night it's just some sort of infomercial-and Dean Ambrose sprawled out on a bed, fast asleep.

He was half surprised the man was asleep; Ambrose had a notorious reputation for insomnia (something which Seth had witnessed time and again.) More than that though, he couldn't quite describe the feelings going through him as he stared at Ambrose. They had put each other through hell, not just as of late, but for months, hell they had put each other through hell in FCW, back when they had fought over the FCW 15 Title. Now...

He finds himself walking closer, despite himself. Getting closer he can see the tiredness in Ambrose, could imagine the aches and pains he was feeling; he had been on the other side of that match, after all. They had put each other through everything. And even after literally burying Ambrose under everything, the man still crawled out, despite everything, and kept searching for him, getting to him, grabbing him, not letting him get away.

All his treacherous brain had been letting him think lately is _Dean, Dean, Dean_ , and he wants to hate everything, to hate _him_ , had been trying so hard to hate him. But now...

He pauses at the side of the bed. He was a fucking fool. What if Ambrose caught him here? It'd surely only lead to words and blows, nothing good. So why did he keep moving closer. He laughs inwardly at himself. He was a great liar to a lot of people, even himself sometimes, but despite everything, Dean Ambrose had always been able to see through him, see through the bullshit.

He cautiously moves a hand to Ambrose's leg. The man continues to sleep soundly. Ambrose could be weird sometimes; noises didn't tend to wake him up, but people talking to him would, so as long as Seth was quiet it was doubtful the man would wake up, at least for the moment.

He takes it in for a moment, that simple pleasure, of just being able to touch Ambrose and for no malice to be behind it, him, or Ambrose. It reminds him of simpler days when they had all been a group, a unit, had even been Brothers. He hated remembering those times as much as he still clung to them, despite himself.

He cautiously, very cautiously, moves his hand up a little further. Ambrose lets out a snuffling sort of sound but again doesn't wake up. He swallows against his now dry throat, daring to move further and further, daring to try and get on the bed.

No noise, silence. He sits there on the bed, want filling him, choking him, and he just wanted to yell, to scream, to laugh, to kiss, to do everything and nothing. Ambrose made him feel so many things at once that he didn't even think possible before.

Need fills him as he looks at him. Dare he...? What would that serve, but to get his ass kicked by Ambrose when he surely would wake up immediately and be pissed?

Thoughts of people talking to him lately of him being a coward, a _coward_ they called him. He seethed at that, always had. Seth Rollins was many things, and even some of them he'd admit to, but he was never a fucking _coward._ Things might have gotten out of his control long enough ago that he didn't want to admit it, things had gotten out of hand, but he was not a fucking coward.

Ambrose was not under the covers. It wasn't hot in the room, but Seth knew that he could be very weird about those sorts of things sometimes; one time he could be buried under a mound of blankets even if it wasn't cold at all, or it could be like fucking _Siberia_ in the room (which the three of them had dealt with before) and he'd been sleeping in a pair of shorts-Ambrose was just that weird.

Right now he was in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, as far as Seth could see. Just the implications of what he was thinking of was making his head spin. "I mean, Ambrose has never even given me the indication that he was-"

Seth was bisexual, had known this about himself since he did Cyberfights so long ago, back when he had been trying to get into the business, had needed the money and had done those kinds of matches to keep a roof over his head. He wasn't ashamed, though it wasn't something he ever willingly brought up either; only Ambrose and Reigns had ever been told about some of the things in it. He knew then Ambrose wouldn't judge; although Ambrose hadn't done Cyberfights, he had done some of the little fetish matches that were also part of the underground wrestling scene that very few knew about, so he was in no position to judge. And Reigns...well Reigns was Reigns. And he had never been a guy to judge anyone about anything. He had always liked that fact about the man as much as it could infuriate him now.

He holds his breath, hands gently grabbing the waistband of Ambrose's pants, slowly working them down. He stills as Ambrose lets out another one of those snuffling little sounds. But again he does not wake up. Eventually they come down enough for him to see what he had been waiting to see. Ambrose was erect even; he must have been having a nice dream. He moves forward, unable to believe his own daring, and moves his mouth over Ambrose's erection. He feels Ambrose move slightly and looks up in alarm, but the other man does not awaken.

His mouth moves deeper, lower, over the other man's erection. He bites back a moan of his own as he does this. He was surprised at his own erection, how much he was liking this; he had never done this for a man before. Before it had him getting this treatment. Had never even _considered_ doing this for another person. But just looking at Ambrose had made him want...

One of his hands palms his own cock over his pants and he bites his lip to keep from moaning. His own need surprises him. He hadn't gotten off in awhile with someone, sure, but he had jerked off and it had felt good. He almost wanted to say it was because he hadn't been with someone in awhile, but as much as he lied to himself he couldn't do it now.

He _wanted_ him. Wanted him bad enough to risk his ire, his fists, his eyes that always speared right through him to where it hurt most.

He dwells on these things long enough that it takes him a moment to realize that a hand had tentatively been moving across his back.

He stiffens and his mouth moves away from Ambrose. He looks up, a lump in his throat, straight into Ambrose's eyes.

Ambrose looks a mixture of many things; confused, aroused, something...something else that hurt for him to look at.

"Seth." Ambrose says, not quite a question.

Ambrose...no-

"Dean." he says, hoarsely.

Dean shakes his head. He licks his lips for a moment before speaking.

"I missed you too."

He laughs, unable to help himself. He continues to laugh hard, face in his hands.

"God, this is so fucked up." he finally mutters, laughter dying away.

He glances back up at Dean who stares at him with such blatant want that it makes his swallow hard.

"Isn't it though? I meant what I said though." Dean adds, still staring holes into Seth.

"I-"

That tentative hand is joined by another, one on either side of Seth's waist.

In for a penny, in for a pound, Seth supposed.

He moves his head down and takes all of Dean in his mouth. Dean's head jerks and he lets out a low groan. To see Dean unraveled- _this_ way-was...was.

He feels Dean spasm as he comes, moaning loudly as he loses it. He lets out a sound as Dean pulls him away. The other man pulls him up to him, and kisses him hard. He moans against Dean's mouth, clinging to him, as Dean tastes himself upon Seth's mouth and doesn't care, as he does his best to _devour_ Seth.

It doesn't take much; a few strokes later of Dean's hand has him coming as hard as if he was a teenager.

He tries to pull back from Dean but his hands are like vices, keeping him close to him. The light in Dean's eyes makes him want to hurt, but he finds himself smiling instead. The first real smile in...longer than he could honestly remember.

He looks at Dean and, for the moment at least, all was well.

"I missed you too."

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I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

-PhoenixJustice


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